His Last Thoughts
by dragonwriter24cmf
Summary: Set in Guardians Volume 2. Yondu's thoughts in his final moments.


**His Last Thoughts**

 **THIS STORY HAS MAJOR SPOILERS FOR GUARDIANS OF THE GALAXY VOLUME 2!** **DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVE NOT SEEN THIS MOVIE!**

He never did much with his life. Never was much, not since his folks sold him into slavery as a whelp. Not since he broke the Ravagers Code bringing Ego those kids. He's always been a screw-up, scrambling to make things work and failing most of the time. He never did anything good with his life.

And then he picked up Peter Quill. Ego's newest interest. Another kid of the planet. A skinny little snot-nosed brat who looked at him with tear filled eyes, a beat-up Earth-style tape player in his hands, looking like he'd lost his whole damn world.

Which, even without his mother's death, he had.

He didn't take the kid to Ego. He knew what would happen, and he didn't want to be responsible for another kid's death. He'd figured out what happened to Ego's kids when he dropped 'em off. Figured out too, why Ravagers didn't deal in kids, why that was part of The Code.

Couldn't give the kid back. Didn't want to drop him off alone in some corner of the universe. Brat was spirited, even with everything. So he kept him. Told his crew (and Peter) that it was cause the brat was small and good for thieving. Teased the boy that he'd let the crew eat him if he stepped too far out of line. Not that he meant it. Not much anyway.

Didn't take long before he'd have skewered the first bastard to try it. Not that he'd tell the boy or the crew that. Hell, he could hardly admit it to himself.

They bonded, after a fashion, over fighting lessons and shooting lessons. Over learning to steal and learning to fly. Over those silly little figurines from Earth, which he thought were funny (he'd never admit he liked them because they reminded him of the skinny little orphan he'd picked up). And, though he'd never admit it, not in a million light-years, over the kid's music. It wasn't bad. He even kinda liked it, though it got old after a few years.

He watched the boy (his boy) grow from a spirited boy to a stubborn, smart-mouthed jackass of a man. Sharp tempered and touchy. Kinda like him, though they both refused to admit it. He'd never call the boy (his boy) Star-Lord like the kid wanted, but he thought, secretly, that it was a good name, and better than some of the ones his crew came up with.

Boy grew up strong, and smart. And even when Peter went behind his back and ran out on them, he couldn't be too hacked off. Hell, he was even kinda proud. Fact was, Peter's little rebellion (not to mention stealing one of his best ships), proved to him that he'd taught the boy right. Taught him how to be a first class survivor, a first class Ravager. Taught him to be a man.

It was something. Maybe not a good something, but something.

Sure, the boy's action cost him most of his reputation, and the respect of his crew. But hell, that little brat was _his_ boy, and even if he wasn't about to say it, he thought it often enough. And that was worth the trouble, even if Peter seemed intent on stabbing him in the back every chance he got.

Fact was, he figured a little rebellion was normal in a growing man. He'd done his own share of kickin' back against his mentor, made his own share of mistakes.

And then he found out what kind of man he'd really raised.

His boy, his Peter, saved Xandar. Saved the whole damn galaxy from that crazy maniac with the glowing stone. Boy held an Infinity Stone (didn't know what that was exactly, but it was damn powerful), and he didn't die. He brought together a group of crazy individuals, and together they saved the galaxy.

And even if the boy (his boy) did double cross him over the rock, he was damn proud. Hell, he'd raised a hero. Him. A smart-ass argumentative, hero, but a hero anyway.

Figured that might be worth something. Even if his crew and the other Ravagers didn't agree. He was still an outcast, and his crew wasn't happy with his leniency toward Peter, but that was almost all right. Cause his boy was a hero.

And hell, he hadn't really wanted that damn rock anyway. Thing was dangerous. He'd seen that. Didn't need some idiot on his crew opening up the storage orb and blowing up half the ship.

And then he heard that Peter met Ego. Or maybe it was that Ego had found the kid. It was the thing he'd tried to prevent, and it had finally happened.

He could have left him. Should have, especially after his crew turned mutiny on him, spaced his best men. Peter had never cared much for him. He knew that.

But damned if he could leave that boy to Ego's plans. Ego's plans were bad for business, to start with, but he didn't want that lunatic, murderous planet-man laying a hand on his boy. So he joined up with the Tree-Rat and the Twig, and his one loyal crew man, and they went after the boy. His boy, damn it. With almost no crew left, he might as well admit it. Just like he might as well admit he'd kept Peter to save him, not to use him, and that he'd never intended to let the other Ravagers eat the boy.

So he went up against a living planet. For his boy.

In the midst of their attack, because there wasn't any reason not to, he told his boy the truth. About saving him.

When Ego overwhelmed them, when he was being buried under the living planet surface, he told his boy the most important fact of life he'd ever known. The most important thing he could ever teach _his_ boy.

Fly with your heart, not your head. Guide the arrow with your heart, not your brain.

And he watched with pride as Peter took the lesson and used it. Used it to give Ego a good whoopin'. That was his boy, and he couldn't be more proud.

He watched, and he saw Rocket's eyes (Rocket, because he understood the Tree-Rat too well, and he felt compelled to give him the courtesy of his name). There wasn't a way to save them all. At least not that Rocket could see.

He could have left. But he wasn't gonna leave his boy. So he took the equipment Rocket gave him, and he smiled and said good bye, and he went to help his boy.

And when the bomb went off, when Peter Quill and his friends killed Ego, killed the planet, he was there to catch his boy (his son), and hold him close and carry him away. Carry him toward the sky and the waiting ship.

He was so proud of his boy.

He didn't have much time left.

He'd never learned how to say all the nice things a dad was supposed to say. His own hadn't taught him that kind of crap. How to fight and survive, yeah, how to hate, yeah. But how to love a son…well, he didn't know so much about that. Didn't have the words. Not the ones he wanted, the kind of words Peter would want.

But he said the best he could, and maybe the second most important thing he'd ever said to his boy.

"That fella might have been your father, but he wasn't your daddy."

 _I was. I was your dad. I'm proud of you. You're the only thing I ever did right. Saving you, raising you, that was the only good thing I ever did. I been a slave and Ravager and an exile and a screw up, but the only thing I'm proud of...I was your daddy. I raised you right, boy, and you turned out good. And I am damned proud of you, boy. Damned proud._

They were nearly to the upper level of the atmosphere. He slapped the life-support suit on his boy (his son), and activated it.

He saw the horror, the grief, the realization in Peter's eyes. Held him as his boy fought to get free, fought to transfer the suit to him, fought to save him. Held on tight.

And as they breached the atmosphere and shot like a dying star into space, as the cold closed around him, he smiled.

 _I'm damned proud of you...son. My son. Peter Quill. My son. I'm proud to be your daddy._

Damned if spacing wasn't as cold and painful a death as he'd always heard it was. His lungs froze up, and he body stiffened. And Peter fought him, still trying to save him, looking at him with eyes full of love and respect and fear and grief.

The eyes of a son. His son.

He raised one stiffening arm and hand. Clumsily, slowly, patted his son's face. He couldn't speak anymore, couldn't really hear any more. Could barely see.

It was time. Time for him to see what came after.

And because it was time, he found the strength for the words he'd never heard said to him, never said to Peter. Words he hoped his son could see and feel in him, because he couldn't tell his boy this truth now.

 _I love you son. Love you boy. You were worth it. Worth everything._

Worth the hurt, worth the loss, worth the struggle.

His last sight was Peter's eyes, filled with love and grief. He fell into darkness with his son in his arms, safe with him.

As the last shreds of his consciousness fell into darkness, spiraling away, he imagined he could feel Peter holding him too. Holding him close.

Maybe even...calling him Daddy.

 _ **Author's Note:** I couldn't help it. It was such a brilliant scene. Sad, but brilliant. _


End file.
